


Worlds Apart - Part One

by Hardrada



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardrada/pseuds/Hardrada
Summary: A slight re-working.  What if Bones had flown with the Enterprise, leaving Jim behind?
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Worlds Apart - Part One

**Author's Note:**

> There is NO character death in this one, despite the summary. It's going to run to two parts, and is my first time in aiming for a longer fic but still just McKirk nonsense.

Worlds Apart

“It’s yours,” Jim said, and flipped the keys of his beloved bike towards the speaker, who caught them, dumbfounded. He turned his back on the final thing that mattered to him and headed towards Pike, who was standing at the foot of the shuttle steps almost as if he were waiting for someone. Still in last night’s clothes, reeking of alcohol, blood and sweat, Jim grinned at Pike, who smirked at him, seemingly unfazed by his dishevelment and nodded towards the steps he appeared to be guarding.

He was almost - almost - wrong-footed by the sight that met his eyes when he got into the shuttle, but he managed to keep the cocky expression on his face. He had never let anybody see what was underneath that shell, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now, so he took in the rigid ranks of cadets all in their natty uniforms, managed to cool his way past braining himself and found an empty seat without tripping over anything. The stupid safety harness had it in for him, but no big deal, and he almost smiled genuinely when he saw the girl from the previous night - the one who was responsible for the fight, as far as he was concerned. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad choice, after all. He snorted to himself. _Choice? No fucking choice to be made, dick. This or go home and get punched into next week again. Or live on the streets. Jesus, how did it come to this?_ He leaned back and closed his eyes, deciding he’d nap during the journey, ready for whatever came next.

And then… A guy, shouting his head off and only sitting down because he clearly didn’t want the embarrassment of being taken out by someone who was half his size, threw himself into the seat next to him. Simple as that. The first words Leonard McCoy ever said to James Kirk? “I may throw up on you.” And ignoring the somewhat horrified glances of the people who would be their fellow cadets, they each knocked back a mouthful of truly horrendous gin and fell asleep on each other’s shoulders.

The start of a beautiful friendship as the boy with more unfocused loathing and anger in him than any one body should be able to hold, met the man who knew the world was out to get him, and hated everything in it, and himself in particular. It could have been the engines of the shuttle humming into life. Or it could have been the earth, shifting uneasily on its axis.

\--

They lived in each other’s pockets after that. Jim was the only one who called him ‘Bones’ and weirdly neither of them noticed; they both just thought it was his nickname. Jim would say “I’ve gotta go meet Bones,” and never once realised, even with his planet-sized brain, that most of his colleagues assumed it was a euphemism, and just sniggered. A year spent drinking, laughing and talking about everything. But never, never going below the surface. They thought they were best friends; really, they were still just acquaintances. They were both too hurt and damaged to trust anyone else with their deepest secrets. The parts that were most damaged stayed hidden, maybe taken out and looked at in the deep night before being tucked away again. Sometimes, just sometimes one or the other of them would begin to say something, but always pulled back; the time wasn’t right, or the setting, or they shied away suddenly from a subject that could lead into deep and dark waters. _Easier to keep things simple_ was Jim’s way of thinking. _He’ll run a mile if he finds out I’m this bad. I want him with me in space._ And Bones? Well, Bones was so full of self-loathing and blame for the mistakes he had made, that he knew a kid like Jim couldn’t take it, couldn’t handle all the baggage he brought with him; and so he left it as light as he could. _I like this kid; I want to get through the Academy with him. Then he’ll leave anyway. He was made for the stars, this one._

\--

By the second year, they had decided to room together. They only had each other, there was something about them, their insularity and seeming aloofness, that made their fellow students unconsciously avoid them. But the stupid, intelligent men didn’t seem to realise that. They were too wrapped up in learning, too wrapped up in studying, and beginning to be too wrapped up in each other.

“We know each other well enough,” Jim had said, “and we can help each other with all this studying. And anyway, Bones, who the hell else would want to room with you?”

“Kid…” (Bones always called him ‘kid’ - nobody else did. They never noticed that, either. Stupid, intelligent men). “Kid, I can get a room to myself, we’ve been through this. I have privileges”. 

“Yup, and one of them is sharing quarters with me”. Jim grinned at him, a proper full on grin, chipmunk cheeks, eyes disappearing into crinkles, the works. It always worked, because very few people got to see it, not the genuine one. He saved it for the people (all two of them)that he trusted.

“It’s what I like most about you, you know; that modesty”.

Sharing quarters was weird, at least to start with. Bones thought he knew Jim. It began to be very clear he didn’t know him at all. Because they didn’t talk; they thought they did, but all they did was chat. Living together began to show that difference.

It started when Bones came home from shift slightly earlier than usual. The door to their quarters wouldn’t open properly as if something was jamming it, and it took a hefty shove until he could get it far enough open to actually be able to get in. When he was finally able to scramble in, he felt his mouth drop open as he surveyed the wreckage in front of him. At first he thought that they had been burgled, and (unremarked at the time) his first thought was _Where’s Jim? Is Jim okay?_ His second was _Oh wait, there’s Jim in the middle of this wreckage. Thank God._ And only then did he drop his never-not-by-his-side medikit to the floor and say, “What the actual fuck?”

“Sorry”. Jim looked not remotely sorry. What Jim looked was fucking furious. “I had a bit of a …”

“Hissy fit?” Bones took a step forward, wincing when something crunched under his foot. “What the actual FUCK?”

“Okay, hissy fit”. Jim was lying flat on his back on the floor, fingers laced over his eyes. “Whatever. You’re early. I was going to tidy it up”.

“Yep, you look like you’re planning to do that any second”, Bones said, checking the floor before stepping forward again. Finally he managed to forge a path through the wreckage and stood over Jim for a moment, before reaching down to pull his hands away. Jim kept his eyes closed, and Bones screamed silently in frustration. He kicked aside some random object or other (could that be Jim’s PADD? If so, genius boy had some reconstruction work ahead).

“Jim.” Bones sat down and was amazed at the way that Jim was - vibrating. There were constant small tremors running through his body. They had known each other a year, and he hadn’t seen this before. He’d dealt with many variations on the theme of Jim Kirk in that time - drunk Jim, embarrassed Jim, physically damaged Jim and angry Jim among them, but he had never dealt with this one; this one felt - dangerous. “Talk to me”.

“What about?” Even Jim’s voice vibrated. He was holding himself so rigid, so damn tightly-wound that Bones was tempted to hide behind the table. This boy was going to explode any second and it was going to be messy.

“Whatever the fuck is doing this to you”. Bones waved a hand at Jim, even though Jim’s eyes remained resolutely closed. Strangely, he still flinched as if he somehow sensed the movement. “Kid, talk to me. What’s happened?”

“Nothing”. Jim rolled onto his side, presenting his back to Bones. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do this. Maybe we shouldn’t be sharing like this; maybe you should just let me go”.

“Let you go? Why? At the risk of repeating myself here, what the actual _fuck_ is going on?”

“It’s just - shit”. Jim rolled back over and dragged his hands down his face. “I’m sorry, man. I just freaked. I do, sometimes”.

“Okay.” Bones made himself more comfortable. “What about?”

“Poster child”. Jim moved as if he planned to cover his eyes again but instead tucked his hands underneath his thighs. “I really, really hate being a poster child. Sometimes, the shit they ask me to do…” He sighed and sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. “It’s like - they forget he was my dad, you know? I know I didn’t know him, but he was my dad, and they just… The way they talk about him. I know he’s a legend, but he’s my dad. It’s like, ‘okay, James, come and open this hall; we’ve named it after George’. They never knew him, where do they get off talking about him like they did? He was my fucking father. He belongs to me!” He took a deep breath as if he intended to continue and then stopped, waving a hand. “Fuck it,” he said wearily. “Just - fuck it. Sometimes I feel like I have too much in my head, just - too much. And sometimes it has to come out, and I make a mess”. He said it so simply that Bones laughed. Jim looked up, scowling initially, and then he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry”. 

“Kid, there’s no problem. Don’t ever apologise”. Bones stood up and reached down a hand, slightly concerned that the vibrations were still running through him, but just going with it to see what happened. Jim stood in front of him, up on his toes as though he planned to run and hide, or maybe just run, or maybe hit somebody and then run. Jim did like to hit. He lashed out when he was drunk or when he was angry or when he was drunk and angry; and he was one of those 90% of the time it sometimes seemed. It made Bones tired just watching him.

“The problem’s not you,” Jim said. “It’s not dad”. He poked himself in the chest and then tapped his finger against his temple. “It’s here”. He shook his head, still bouncing, and then looked around the room. “Guess I’d better start tidying. Wonder if there’s still a floor under all this crap”. And just like that he stepped away from both Bones and whatever it was that bothered him. Directing all that mad energy, he had the room tidied within 30 minutes and then he vanished, claiming he was going to work out, leaving Bones unsure as to what had just happened, and more to the point what was going to happen. He knew what Jim ‘working out’ meant, when he was in a mood, and even if this particular mood was new to him, it was still a variation on a familiar theme. Bones was tired after his long shift, he wanted nothing more than to have something to eat and then sleep until the next shift, and for a few minutes he sat quietly, trying hard to ignore the worm in his ear. And then, with a curse that was to say the least inventive, he stood up, picked up his medikit and slammed out of their quarters.

He found him in the third bar he tried; the noise as he opened the door was deafening, made up of whoops, cheers and bottles breaking. With a muttered ‘fuck’, Bones put his head down and shouldered his way through to where the noise was loudest and ugliest.

Bones preferred to fight with words; he knew the damage that fists and feet could cause, but Jim - Jim didn’t see it that way. Jim flailed out at everything around him with an unfocused anger that caused him to get into just this kind of situation. Bones didn’t understand it, but even after only a year of acquaintanceship he would wade into the ocean to get Jim out of trouble. The ocean-wading wasn’t required this time though, just some fast talking (and Bones had always been able to do that) and the occasional elbow to somebody’s ribs. Jim had already taken a pounding and so the fun was almost over anyway.

“Jesus, Jim.” Bones knelt beside the figure lying curled up on the floor. “What the hell are you doing in this dive?”

Jim mumbled something and glanced up as much as he could without moving his head which told Bones something about just how much he was hurting. “Don’t try and speak,” he added, “Just let me get you patched up and we’ll get out of here”.

Jim’s tongue prodded at a split on his lip before, groaning, he pushed himself up on an elbow, ignoring Bones’ protests. He spat out a mouthful of blood and gingerly wiped his face. One eye was already swollen shut, and his left cheek was swollen and bruised, pulling his mouth up into a weird half-smirk.

“Let’s just go,” he said, or that’s what Bones thought he said, since he was clearly finding it very hard to articulate properly. “I’m done here”.

“You certainly are”. Bones packed away the medical equipment and moved behind Jim, slipping his hands underneath Jim’s arms and slowly helping him stand. Jim wobbled and groaned, one hand moving to his back, hunching over the pain. Bones pulled up his t-shirt and tutted at the bruising that was developing. He had clearly been given a solid kicking. “That,” he muttered in Jim’s ear, “is going to hurt”.

“No ‘going to’ involved, Bones. Already fucking does”. He put his arm over Bones’ shoulders and the two made their way out of the bar. Bones noticed that there was no sign of law enforcement; he suspected that it was the kind of bar that preferred to stay below the radar where legality was concerned, so hopefully they would get away with it. Jim really didn’t need another demerit on his record.

“Why do you do this?” It felt like an old question. “You let them use you as a punch bag. There’s no way you could be so shit at fighting, given how much of it you do”.

Jim huffed what could be a laugh, but all Bones could hear was the pain and it made something inside him tighten. This just wasn’t right; this kid shouldn’t be doing this to himself. Bones didn’t want to be Jim’s father; he just wanted to be the best friend that he could be. Jim was his best - maybe only - friend, and you didn’t let your friend do this to themselves; especially when that friend was Jim.

“Come on, idiot.” He shifted his position slightly. “We could do with getting you to a medbay. That bruising on your back needs checking out. If you’ve damaged your kidneys…”

“Whatever”. The tone of voice made Bones realise, more than anything else, that this time Jim had genuinely gotten himself hurt, and whatever it was tightened by another ratchet.

\--

That was when things began to change a bit, perhaps; when at least one of the stupid, intelligent men began to understand what had happened that day on the shuttle. Jim was in too much pain to register anything, but Bones, who checked on him every few hours, and who went home at night to the empty apartment, began to think. There was nothing much else to do as he realised that he couldn’t sleep, and the reason for that was because he was waiting for Jim to come home, just as he always had. Just knowing he was home, that was all. But Jim had to spend 48 hours in a hospital bed, adroitly avoiding any questions with the skill of long practice, and Bones had all the time in the world to get used to the new weirdness in his stomach.

\--

The hospital was quiet; it was 5am and Bones was due on duty in a little over an hour. The building around him was quiet, just the usual ambient hum, and the occasional squeak of footwear on the floors as the staff moved around fulfilling their tasks with quiet efficiency. Bones loved this; he loved the fact that patients were being cared for by people at the top of their game, that he and his colleagues held their lives in their hands and were trusted to make them well. It was the one place that he could feel calm and in control. 

Jim’s bed was tucked into a corner in a small room with one other occupant, who was flat out asleep when Bones pushed open the door. Jim’s small reading light was on, and Jim was sitting up with the pillows propped behind him to hold him as comfortably as possible, a book open on his lap - one of the books Bones had brought for him. He was engrossed in whatever he was reading, as he always was, to the extent that he didn’t even register that the door had opened. Bones stood quietly just inside the door and simply - watched. Jim was a maelstrom as a rule, rarely still, rarely calm, so to see him like this was something special to Bones’ mind. He leaned against the door for a few seconds and watched him, enjoying the calm. Jim still hadn’t registered Bones’ presence, head down, idly chewing at his bottom lip as he read and re-read a paragraph that was causing a bit of difficulty for him. Bones could practically tell when the light bulb went on over his head; Jim’s head moved slightly in a nod and, weirdly, one leg kicked out. Either an attack of cramp or that was where that particular fact was going to be stored.

The huff of amusement Bones gave at the thought finally penetrated Jim’s concentration and he looked up and smiled his perfect sunshine grin, so obviously pleased to see him that once again Bones found his stomach clenching as it had at the bar, but this time it felt different.

“How you doing, kid?” he drawled, pushing himself away from the door. “Thought I’d come by and check up on you”.

“Well, look at me,” he said, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb his room mate. “I’m fine. Doc said I could probably go home later”.

Bones frowned and fished out his PADD, calling up Jim’s records. He had of course been checking them regularly, and didn’t remember seeing that, but the kid was right; the comment had been added in the brief time between Bones checking the record and arriving at Jim’s bedside. Must have been delayed getting onto the records, because nobody would add the comment in the middle of the … He glared at Jim. “Did you do this?”

“No!” Jim looked genuinely offended. “Bones, if I was released early, you’d only wheel me back in. I’m not stupid”.

Bones snorted again and Jim fought briefly to maintain his expression of offended innocence before grinning again. “No, I genuinely didn’t, I promise you”. 

“Okay, if you say so”. Bones rolled his eyes. “The number of times I say that just before something awful happens; I should get some kind of medal”.

“I’ll get you one minted,” Jim promised, closing his book and adding it to the pile on the table beside his bed before leaning back against the pillows. “You just come to check on me? So sweet, you’re worried about me”. Bones felt his face tighten, and he caught the falter of Jim’s smile in response, before it was glued firmly back in place.

“That’s what friends do,” Bones said, perching on the side of the bed. “Listen, kid, I’m on duty soon, so I won’t be around to get you home. You going to be okay?”

“Sure.” Jim waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve been here often enough that I can find my way home blindfold”.

“Maybe that should tell you something”. Bones hadn’t been expecting to hear himself say that and judging by the brief silence, neither had Jim.

“What?” The tone of voice was one that Jim never used on Bones. It was his ‘don’t fuck with me’ tone, one reserved for people who thought it would be fun to try it on with the Legend’s son. Jim was actually very kind, always willing to help; the cockiness was only skin deep, and although Bones didn’t know what was under that facade, or at least not much of it, he knew just enough to realise it was that - a facade.

“What nothing,” he said, backing away from the edge once again. There was something coming, something that was going to change what they had; but it was a case of which one of them would make the move. “You are damn touchy these days”.

Jim shrugged. “So would you be if you had to piss through a tube”. He raised his shoulders in a silent sigh. “Sorry, sorry. But it’s true. I’ll be home later, we’ll get some dinner and slob, yeah?”

Bones nodded. “Sounds good. You’ll be home first, you sort it out. Make yourself useful”. He laughed as he left, urged on his way by Jim’s raised middle finger.

\--

When he got home, the lights were dim and Jim was asleep on the sofa, curled around a cushion, drooling onto the armrest. He looked uncomfortable and edgy, even in sleep and it was obvious that something was hurting. Bones hovered in the doorway for a moment before chastising himself. _Fuck’s sake, McCoy; it’s only Jim._ He scowled at the world in general and moved quietly towards the sofa, leaning over Jim and placing a hand on his forehead in the age-old manner. There were certain things that no amount of gadgetry could replace. Jim’s skin was cool and dry to the touch; he was just asleep, nothing more; nobody slept well in a hospital bed, and he just wanted to sleep. Jim surely did love to sleep. _Genius level sleeper._

Bones moved into his bedroom and quickly changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and baggy sweater and got himself a coffee. Then he sat down on the arm of the sofa near Jim’s feet and waited. If this followed the normal pattern, he’d be awake in an hour or so. He never did sleep through the night. He slept like a next-level genius, but his fizzing energy didn’t let him sleep the whole night. Bones sipped on his coffee and studied Jim, really tried to study him outside the friendship they shared, outside the weird feelings that were growing in him. Really, what was he? He was a scruffy, angry kid with permanent bed hair. He was reasonably tall but slight - maybe ‘wiry’ would be a better description. If you didn’t consider the mouth sinful (which Bones absolutely did not, no way, _nope_ ) then in fact it was stupidly big and way out of proportion for his face. Sure, he had pretty eyes (he could acknowledge that as simple fact; didn’t mean anything. And anyway, he still thought ‘pretty’ the wrong word; he thought ‘sad’ described them much better). No matter what the correct word was, having pretty (or sad) eyes didn’t stop him walking into doors and pushing on pull handles. He was allergic to things that normal people never thought about. There was a side of Bones that believed he was probably allergic to fresh air. But only on a Sunday. If it was raining. What Jim was, above all, though, above the genius-level, repeat-offending dickweed side, was purely kind. It was one of the very first things Bones had noticed; almost the first thing the kid has said was “I think these things are pretty safe” when they were side by side in the shuttle. Okay, not said in a _here, have a nice mug of cocoa and a blankie_ fashion; more in the _fuck’s sake, you’re about 10 years older than me; grow up._ way. But it was still the kindest thing anyone had said to Bones in a long time.

And now? Now, something had developed and grown without him even noticing it. He reached out and gently touched Jim’s ankle where his pant leg had ridden up; it was somehow ridiculously vulnerable. He let his index finger trace the shape of the talus, wondering when it had started to change, and just what the fuck he was going to do about it.

Jim stirred under his hand, pulling his foot away from Bones’ touch and scrubbing his face against the arm of the sofa. The movement clearly hurt his damaged face, and he woke with a start, one hand going automatically to his head.

“No, Jim, don’t touch!” Bones moved quickly and grabbed Jim’s wrist. Jim was way too prone to poking and injuries to see if they still hurt _(“wonder if it’ll hurt if I do this - ow; okay, what if I do this - ow’)_ and Bones didn’t want that. These injuries were nasty and that eye, even with all the treatment, still hadn’t cleared up properly. 

“What? Oh, hi”. Jim smiled softly, still mussed and baffled by sleep. “Hi Bones. I fell asleep”. 

“Yeah, kid, I noticed”. Bones smiled and tried to straighten Jim’s hair, letting his hand linger a moment. Jim didn’t seem to notice, simply dropping his head against the arm of the sofa again. “You still tired?”

“Guess”. Jim moved a little restlessly. “I ache”.

“You damaged your kidneys, they’re gonna hurt for a day or two. You really went for it this time”. He moved his hand to Jim’s forehead, using that as his excuse to linger a little longer. Jim huffed and pushed slightly into the touch, and at that point Bones was lost. His footing went from under him and he found himself floating free, as if he had been sucked out of an airlock. There was about as much oxygen for him to pull into his lungs as well. He pulled his hand back as if he had been burned and stood up saying, slightly more heartily than he intended, “Come on, kid, let’s get you into bed. You need to sleep”.

“Hungry,” Jim whined as he reached up and grabbed hold of Bones’ hand. “Help a starving man stand”.

Bones’ skin hurt. This would normally be nothing, this was how they behaved with each other, the casual touching which meant nothing. And this meant nothing. _Nothing._ It was just Jim, touchy-feely, all about the physical contact, Jim. So why now did Bones’ skin hurt?

“Bones?” Jim looked at him, eyes questioning and holding the hint of hurt. This was _Bones._ “Help me”.

And of course, Bones did. Because - Bones always did. He took hold of Jim’s hand and pulled him gently to his feet, being as careful as he could, because above all else he was a doctor. He let go of JIm’s hand, more carefully this time and nodded towards the dining table. “Sit,” he said going for his normal grumpiness and almost getting there. “I’ll get food. What do you want?”

“Whatever”, Jim responded helpfully, hunching over himself slightly as he did as Bones had told him. “Just fuel”.

Half an hour later, Jim had polished off a bowl of the nearest thing to gumbo the replicator could manage, and some of his colour had returned. He was still in pain, Bones could tell by the way he was sitting, and the way he occasionally shifted his position, but he looked a little more like himself. But he didn’t argue when Bones told him to go to bed.

And Bones promised himself - _ordered_ himself - not to do what he did. He told himself it was foolish, and this whole weird experience needed somehow writing off as a fever dream, but still he moved to the door of Jim’s room and watched him - just watched him -- as he slept, curled around one of his pillows, his eyes moving beneath his lids as even asleep, his body registered its discomfort in a thousand tiny movements. 

“Fuck.” Bones pulled himself away and closed Jim’s door. _Just what the living fuck had happened?_ He went to the dining table and sat down, head in hands. He had known Jim a year plus; in that time they had been each other’s anchor, the stability that they each needed; Jim had calmed down somewhat (although perhaps his recent outburst showed there was a ways to go), and Bones himself was perhaps a shade less depressed, less full of hatred. The time that he was with Jim, the time that Jim was with him, they were the best times, perhaps for both of them. And out of that seemed to have grown something more. Bones groaned and scrubbed at his face. What was he supposed to do about this?

\--

What he did was precisely nothing. Because the next day Jim kissed him, and Bones gave his heart, irrevocably and for ever.

It started normally enough. Bones woke early, as he always did, and was out of bed before he remembered that he was actually on a rare day off the wards; today was supposed to be dedicated to studying as tests were coming up. He and Jim had arranged that today was going to be revising and testing each other with the most obscure questions they could find.

 _Jim._ And then it all came back to him; everything that had happened the night before, every ridiculous _feeling_ churned in his gut all at the same time, and he beat his head gently against the window for a second or two, before pulling himself together. _Oh come on, you’re not some kind of fourteen year old lovestruck kid; you’re a grown man. Just get a fucking grip._

By the time he made it into the living area, he was under control. Jim, stunningly enough, was already there, although still in the sweats and t-shirt he had slept in, his hair sticking up in every direction _(still needs washing_ Bones thought automatically), eyes heavy with sleep and discomfort as he gazed at the replicator as if he had never seen it before, and Bones clamped down hard on those _feelings_ and scowled. “You in pain?”

Jim jumped and winced. “Oh hi, man”, he said. “Mmm, little bit”. He waved an airy hand. “My own stupid fucking fault, leave it. Maybe it’ll teach me. I’m getting too old for all this shit”. He turned and leaned against the work surface. “Thanks for last night, for - you know”.

“Well, you’re welcome, kid”. Bones folded his arms, wondering where this atmosphere had come from and how he could dispel it.

“You watched me, last night”. Jim echoed Bones’ pose. “I know you did. I know why, as well”.

“To make sure that you didn’t hurt your fool self”.

“Even I would have trouble hurting myself when I was sleeping”. Jim gave one of those weird, slow motion kitten blinks he gave when he was trying to wink. “Not saying I haven’t hurt myself in bed before now, but that’s a totally different thing”.

Bones rolled his eyes, and Jim laughed, a proper laugh, and the little fire that seemed to have taken up residence in Bones’ belly flared into life again. He realised that he loved that laugh; the laugh made him laugh, and Bones wasn’t one for finding much funny in life. “Are you up for studying today?” he asked, trying to drag the day onto the track marked ‘normal’.

“I can do that”. There was another pause, and Jim looked at Bones, one eyebrow raised. “But not with you standing in the doorway”.

“Oh”.  
__

And then things seemed to settle down. A day of study will do that to the most romantic of hearts, and certainly a curmudgeonly doctor with too much to learn and a genius study partner who seemed to soak up everything like a sponge, and by lunchtime, Bones called for a rest.

“I haven’t got room”, he said, sitting back. “I have no more brain room”.

“Yeah”. Jim leaned back in his turn, stretching hugely, and Bones did not in any way at all check out the way the t-shirt pulled tight across his torso. _Good God, stop it!_ “I reckon if we don’t know it now, then we’re never going to know it”. He relaxed with an ‘oof’ that came from the heart. “I’m done as well”.

“The difference is that you know everything already”. Bones was surprised at the tone of his voice and so, clearly, was Jim, who raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that for?” he demanded, prickly immediately. It was the risk you ran with Jim; he could go from zero to homicidal in about 0.3 seconds. Bones had seen it happen, although usually alcohol was involved, and it had never, never been aimed at him. This was the second time in 48 hours that he had gotten himself tetchy with his best _only_ friend.

“Nothing”. Bones held Jim’s stare. “It doesn’t mean anything except for the fact that you can learn faster than me; you have a super-sized brain and you’re younger. You can absorb things better than me”.

Jim smiled slightly and shook his head. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “I’m on edge I guess”.

“Why? Is it because of the fight? Because you’re hurting?” And Bones admitted to himself right there that he would quite happily take on Jim’s pain. He didn’t know much about the kid’s background, but he knew enough simply from what he had seen during medical treatment. The kid had suffered, that was obvious. Bones didn’t know the details, and certainly wasn’t going to pry. But if Bones could do anything to ease his pain, then he would.

“Nah”, Jim shook his head. “I’ve had something on my mind, and I think that’s what’s making me edgy”. He ran his hands through his hair and stood up, starting to pace like some kind of trapped animal. “I need to get out of here for a bit. I’m going for a run”.

With great sacrifice, Bones hauled himself up. “I’ll come with you”, he gritted, and either the sound of his voice or the look on his face caused Jim to laugh, suddenly and genuinely, laughing so hard that he had to lean over as it was clearly hurting his ribs, so he ended up making a weird wheezing, snorting noise interspersed with “ow, fuck” type noises. Bones thought about being offended, but Jim’s laugh was so damn infectious that he found himself smiling, and then laughing, and then the two of them were roaring with laughter, and if either of them had been asked what they were laughing about, it was very doubtful if they could come up with a reasonable answer between them.

They didn’t go running, mainly because it was totally impossible for Jim with his sore bits. Bones was immensely grateful. They simply went for a walk and got themselves back on an even footing, Bones and Jim, those clever, stupid men, who were both fighting their way through a mess that could have been sorted out if one of them had just had the bottle to actually say something. It took a crappy holovid and too much whiskey to do that.

__

Jim had always been touchy-feely; he couldn’t talk to you without touching you, be it a casual pat on the arm or a full on arm round the shoulder and body pressed against your side. If he knew you even in the slightest amount he would at some point touch you. It meant nothing; it was just something in him that made him that way. 

And so it was with Bones. He knew Bones; Bones was his best friend, and so Bones came in for the full range of touches, from the casual arm around the shoulder to the practically sitting in the lap as they sat together watching a holovid. And so when they had returned home, eaten dinner, had a few drinks, and settled to watch something that Jim had found, Bones thought nothing of it when Jim settled full length, his head in Bones’ lap, curled up like a contented cat. He rubbed his cheek against Bones’ thigh and then did a bit of burrowing until he was comfortable. Bones closed his eyes and thought about very, very cold things. Jim was a force of nature, and although initially he would look at you with the shuttered, somewhat distrustful eyes of someone who had been hurt somewhere along the way, once those shutters dropped, then he was yours. And Bones knew perfectly well that Jim had been his from the first few days. But now? Bones sighed. Bones was Jim’s as well, and Bones didn’t want to lose that, lose that friendship.

Idly, he began to play with Jim’s hair, twisting it around his fingers and then flattening it again, petting him as he would pet an animal. Jim, although he would hate to know it, and would deny it vehemently, screamed out silently for affection, and Bones had always been willing to supply it. Jim’s hair was still gross; how had he managed to shower and not wash his hair? Bones had a sudden vision of Jim craning his head to keep it out of the way of anything that could, you know, clean it. It was stiff and a bit greasy - really gross actually, but Bones had handled worse things in his life. He would finally throw Jim towards the shower later; right now he was too damn comfortable, just sitting on the sofa, watching some absolute shit on the holo, with the weight of his best friend sprawled across him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of Jim; on the warmth coming off him, the energy, the sheer life force of him. It never failed to energise Bones in turn; he could live in the warmth of Jim’s affection for the rest of his life.

He must have dozed off because it was Jim shifting under his hand that made him jerk open his eyes. Jim had turned over until he was looking up at Bones. “What?”

“This is not your best angle,” Jim said with a smirk. 

Bones scowled and tapped Jim’s head. “Cheeky little fucker”.

Jim smiled and shifted again, only slightly, so that he was almost facing Bones’ belly rather than the holo, which carried on burbling away to itself, completely ignored. He smiled again, but this time it was different; there was something in it that was - could that be uncertainty?

“I can hear you thinking”. Bones kept his voice low and slow. “What’s bothering you now?”

“Just wanted to say thanks for the past few days”. Jim raised a hand and placed it against Bones’ chest. “I know I’m a screw up sometimes. People don’t usually put up with it”.

“Kid, a tantrum isn’t going to make me walk out the door”. Bones stroked Jim’s hair away from his forehead. “It’s what friends do”.

“Friends”. Jim said the word quietly, consideringly. “We are friends, aren’t we? Proper friends”.

“Yeah, proper friends”. Bones smiled. He could feel Jim’s hand resting on his chest, warm and comfortable. 

“Remember when I got food poisoning?” Jim said it almost affectionately, as if he had really enjoyed inspecting the inside of a toilet bowl for long periods of time.

“Which time? I’ve never in my life known anyone get sick more often than you”.

“You know, just after that session we had about alien cultures, and I tried some of that really funky-looking fishy stuff”.

“Ah, yes, the funky-looking fishy stuff. And did you at no point think that the fact it was funky-looking could be a good reason to avoid it?”

“Nothing ventured, Bones my friend, nothing ventured”. Jim moved his hand. “But that time, I admit that time was really freaking bad”. He wrinkled his nose at the memory. “And you stayed with me, all the way through it. You cleaned me up and cleaned up the bathroom that time I missed the bowl”. He shook his head and raised his eyes to Bones’ face. Bones though again that he had never seen anyone with sadder eyes. Jim couldn’t hide anything; even when the shutters slammed down, as they did whenever he met a stranger or felt threatened. No, even then you could see that he was in pain. But now - he wasn’t hiding anything right now, or at least not that Bones could tell, and Bones had studied Jim in every mood. He was a master of Jim Kirk and his moods. Bones kept his hand moving gently through Jim’s hair, pressing the pads of his fingers against the scalp, almost massaging his head. Jim made a noise that was close to a purr, and his body moved; he almost _undulated_ against the sofa.

“Like that?” Bones said softly, not wanting to break the thing that finally seemed to be building. “Never know anyone like you”.

“There is no-one like me,” Jim replied, his eyes flickering briefly. “’m unique”.

Bones didn’t answer, just kept up the movement of his fingers, feeling Jim’s fingers flex in reaction. This was new and a little bit frightening to Bones, but he couldn’t have stopped for anything. Unless and until Jim told him to, he would keep doing this, sit here for the rest of his born days and keep Jim like this, boneless and relaxed and so fucking, fucking beautiful. _I wish I had the words,_ he thought. _I wish I could say to you exactly what’s inside._

“Tell me”. Jim’s voice was soft, not breaking the atmosphere. “Tell me what you’re thinking”.

“I can’t”, Bones blurted. “I don’t know the right words”.

“Try”.

Bones shook his head. “I don’t have the right words. How much do you know?”

Jim smiled, very soft, very kind. “I don’t _know_ anything, but I’m not an idiot, my Bones; I have eyes and I do see, and I’ve watched you. You’ve turned - hungry - in the last couple of weeks. I know hunger, I know it in every single form and in every single meaning of that word. I’ve had people look at me like you look at me; shit, I’ve probably looked at people like you look at me”.

Bones’ heart sank into his boots. “You make me sound - evil”. His hand stilled in Jim’s hair, his stomach knotted and the hurt making his eyes burn.

“No! Oh, no, I’m sorry!” Jim sat up and even in his utter misery Bones registered in some part of his mind that Jim had managed to plant a hand in a very tender part. Jim knelt on the sofa next to Bones, one hand making an abortive move upwards. “That didn’t come out right. I’m so sorry.” His hand moved again, resting against Bones’ cheek. “I didn’t… I’m sorry. I just meant…” And simple as that, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Bones had heard all the stories about the breath leaving your body; how your mind blanks everything out; how you forget your name. All utter and total bollocks; he had no need to breathe, thank you kindly; he was hyper-aware of everything; and he was Jim’s Bones. Everything else could do one.

Jim pulled away but kept his hand against Bones’ face, cupping his cheek; kept his forehead against Bones’, so that all Bones could see was a blur of blue - which was fine, he didn’t need to see anything else, thanks all the same. He could hear Jim’s voice, very soft, and it took a moment to process it. “Is this okay?”

 _Oh my god, it’s more than okay, it’s everything - everything._ “Yup”, he managed, not at his most coherent. One of his hands had found its way back into Jim’s hair and was clutching it, trying to ground himself.

“This is what it’s been about”, Jim said, still soft, still so fucking _kind,_ “both of us are such fucking idiots. You and me, my Bones, it’s always been you and me. You look after me; I love that you do that; I love that you shout at me and scold me…”

“Whoa there, Jimmy boy”. Bones got his tongue and brain pointing in the same direction. “Are you telling me you like being scolded? What kind of word is _scolded?_ Are you from the 19th century or something?”

Jim laughed, a huff of breath against Bones’ lips. “It’s a good word. I’m not saying put me over your lap and spank me; I’m saying I know that I need - scolding - sometimes”.

Bones pulled back and simultaneously pushed Jim backwards, putting some much needed space between them. “Don’t do this unless you mean it”. He mock-glared at Jim. “I couldn’t take that”. He kept up the mock-glare so that Jim wouldn’t see how much he meant it.

“I wouldn’t, you know better than that”. Jim looked so sincere that Bones knew he meant it Jim didn’t set out to break anyone’s heart. 

“There’s so much about you I don’t understand”. Bones began to move his hand in Jim’s hair again, smiling as Jim pushed into it immediately, once again bringing to mind a cat demanding attention. 

“I just like keeping you on your toes. I’m an open book”.

“Ha! Don’t lie, kid. He pulled Jim’s hair, demanding his attention. “Don’t you ever lie to me”.

“I wouldn’t. I never have”. Jim stilled in that way he did sometimes; he went very quiet and almost seemed to switch off the energy. Bones had seen him do it perhaps three time during their friendship; it only ever happened when he was feeling threatened, and he was mortified at the thought that he had caused it.

“I know,” he said. “I know”.

__

 _So this is what happens when you fall in love._ Jim gazed up at the ceiling of his room. They had somewhat primly gone to their own beds after a somewhat stilted ‘goodnight’, and Jim had no doubt that Bones was currently doing just what he was doing; gazing upwards, not sleeping, wondering about next steps.

Jim loved Bones, that was just a given. He had never known anybody like Bones, anybody with a heart like that, who just wanted to help, even if he did complain about it all the time. And he had never known anybody who would put up with him, who stuck by him, no matter what. People had always left him, turned their back on him.

So he had held back, because he didn’t want to ruin that. Didn’t want to be seen to be needy; he’d gone on his knees when he had to growing up, if it was the only way to get food for his kids, or to stay alive another day, but he didn’t want Bones to know that, didn’t want him to think Jim was doing whatever he was doing just because he was - needy.

Jim sighed. He knew he was a complex, troublesome little shit. He had been angry or frightened all his life, but with Bones, he had calmed down; Bones kept him calm. Maybe they had come to depend on each other? Is that what real people did? What _complete_ people did?

He turned onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest, smiling to himself. It had felt good though. Bones felt like home. Bones was home.

_Take it as it comes, Kirk, but don’t ever, ever let him down._

Somehow, somewhere along the line, he, Jim Kirk, fuckwit and troublemaker, had fallen in love with Leonard McCoy. And Bones loved him right back. The smile became a full-fledged grin. _That’s not an entirely shit situation._

__

The next morning Bones woke slowly and then all at once. Pressed against his side was a heat pack, there was an arm flung across his chest and there was hair up his nose. _Still needs washing._ Then it struck him. _What??_ And yet, he didn’t sit up or shrug the arm off or even snort to get the hair out of his nose. He lay there and revelled in the warmth, and at the sheer rightness of it. And Jim had decided that it was okay; Jim, in that way of his had rolled with it, accepted it, and would go with it. It meant that things were going to change, but at least Jim understood. And fuck if Jim didn’t love him back. Bones felt his face begin to stretch into what threatened to be a ridiculously goofy smile and he fought to get his face under control. There were limits, after all.

He absently patted the arm lying across his chest and then slithered out from under, standing at the side of his bed and - just looking. Jim fidgeted a bit, his arm moving aimlessly, before he settled again, turning his face into the pillow, his breathing becoming deep and regular. He wasn’t planning on waking up any time soon, that was obvious. Bones decided that the best thing to do was let him sleep; he still had those injuries after all, and sleep was by far the best healer. He was due at the hospital in an hour, so he would just leave Jim to sleep and meet up with him later when they had classes.

Weird goings-on, as his mother would never have said in a million years.

__

Jim woke up finally, his eyes gummed almost closed. He had to actually rub them in order to get them open. Gross. He ran a hand over his face, registering discomfort rather than pain. Not gross. He ran a hand up to his hair and his hand practically got stuck in the gunk. Oh. My. God. Without thinking he rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Or he tried to. He rolled successfully enough and smacked straight into a wall. “Excuse me?” He squinted. Yup, a wall.

Then it hit him. _That’ll be because this is Bones’ bed that you’re in._ He smiled to himself. That had been a weird but ultimately real good evening they had shared. He suspected that whatever happened next would take some careful handling on both their parts; they were both inclined to be touchy about nothing in particular, and they were both spectacularly good at misunderstanding each other, and anybody else for that matter. “One thing,” he said aloud to the room. “This ain’t ever gonna be boring!”

He stretched until he felt bones crack and tendons creak, and then rolled out of bed (in the correct direction) and finally made it to the shower and the long-awaited hair wash. Shit to think about, and he always did really good thinking in the shower.

_

“Hey,” Jim dropped into his usual seat next to Bones and gave him the usual half smile.

“You finished sleeping?” Bones asked, eyes fixed on his PADD. “Never known a man for sleeping like you”.

“Well, you’d know”. The smirk turned into what could best be described as a shit-eating grin, and Bones rolled his eyes.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asked. “From now on?”

“Oh, what do you think?” Jim laughed softly and focused on his own PADD. 

Bones studied how he felt about that, and found that it was okay. It was going to be okay.

__

And on the whole it was. They slipped happily into a relationship with no angst or drama, which was incredible, all things considered. They just seemed to fit. “After all”, Jim said deep one night when they seemed to find talking and learning about each other far more important than sleeping, “we’ve been together for a long time when you think about it”. He lifted their joined hands so that the moonlight turned their skin to alabaster and shadow. “This is just like the next step. Don’t you think?”

“That makes it sound really logical, “ Bones replied. “And I would never have thought of you as being like that”.

“I have a side”, Jim said. “As a kid I had to do a lot of thinking, a lot of knowing how to stay ahead of stuff. I know I freak out sometimes and have on occasion run down corridors flailing for no reason, but - I have a side”. He paused and when he spoke again, Bones could hear the smile in his voice. “I have a lot of sides. And I rarely flail without good reason”.

They would get home and the kisses would be deep and slow. They each learned what the other liked. Jim, to Bones’ surprise, was a nurturer. In bed, he would claw and fight and curse, but then he would hold Bones close until he fell asleep, hands moving gently over his face and hair; he had even on occasion woken Bones up with real coffee. And then there was the weekend they stole, staying in a little place by the Bay - it had had a real bathtub, and JIm had filled the tub to its limit and they had sat in it together, Jim slowly washing every inch of Bones’ body, before drying him and laying him on the bed, kissing every inch he had just washed until Bones had cried out for mercy.

They would watch absolutely dreadful holovids that Jim found somewhere - he never would say where. Sometimes they were so terrible that they would watch, open-mouthed at the sheer dreadfulness; other times one or the other would say something and they would both start laughing, completely unable to stop, every time one calmed down, they were set off by the other. 

They ate weird concoctions that Jim would produce and Bones would eat, putting on the bravest face he could until Jim laughed and told him it was okay, he knew it was godawful.

And they talked, they talked as they had never talked before. Somehow, the physical relationship had opened up a door inside both of them, as if finally they realised that they had someone they could actually talk to, and who would not judge them or tell the world their secrets.

“And that one,” Jim pointed to a scar on his knee, “that was lovely Frank as well. He threw a knife at me. I doubt if he was aiming for my knee, but he was drunk at the time, so I suppose I should be grateful for that”. He squirmed back until he was lying more comfortably in Bones’ arms. “And I think that’s it. So now you understand why I’m so fucked up, I guess”.

“For sure a shit load has happened to you”, Bones agreed, the lightness of his tone belying the strength with which he wrapped an arm around Jim, pulling him in against his side. “Not surprised you’re so fucked up. How did you get past the psych tests?”

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t have to have therapy,” Jim admitted. “And I still do, you know that. But, you know, I understand that none of it was my fault. Not saying that I don’t sometimes think some of it was, think that I let my kids down, let myself down, wasn’t good enough but you know, I was a kid, too. I did what I could”. He scratched his nose and sighed. “I still have my moments - you’ve seen a few of them - but they’re not like they were. The guilt is - a bit less, I suppose. It’ll never go, and the memories of what happened will never go. But, you know, it’s improving”. He stopped and scratched his nose again. “It’ll never go away, I’ll always think of the kids, I’ll always carry the scars that people gave me, but I’m learning how to … Good things happen as well, you know?” 

“You did more than most people could do, and you’ve put up with more”. Bones spoke slowly, thinking his way through the words. “ I think you’re fucking admirable, Jim, I really do”.

“Still fucked up though,” said Jim, kissing Bones’ chest. “Still a fucked up kid”.

Not a kid, kid,” said Bones illogically. “Stop thinking of yourself as that. You’re looking pretty grown up from where I am”. To prove his point, he grabbed a handful of whatever was closest and squeezed, producing something between a yelp and a grunt, which Bones found very appealing, so he did it again, with the same result.

“Stop it!” Jim said, squirming into Bones’ hand rather than away, managing to contradict what he had said with what he did. “I reckon between us that we’re so fucked up that we kind of make up one whole person when we’re together. Better together than apart”.

Bones liked the sound of that. “Yeah,” he said. “Better together”.

\--

Bones hated space; despised it with the hatred that can only be mustered by someone who is truly terrified can manage. He wanted nothing to do with it; he was going to work Earthside, taking care of the fools who wanted to risk their lives in the deep nothingness of space. That was just how things were going to work out; he would lose Jim to the darkness, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t think of going up there in those fragile ships. Too much dark, too much - space. Too much fucking nothingness.

And then one day… “Bones, I want you with me when I go up”.

“Nope”.

“What happens when I freak? What if I have one of my - hissy fits - and you’re not around? What if I eat stuff that makes me turn blue and suffocate?”

“That would be bad”, Bones said as coolly as he could, because he could actually see that happening, and it made his insides clench. He and Jim were one unit, splitting up was going to be so hard. But he couldn’t. Not even for Jim. He just couldn’t.

Then he made his mistake. He looked at Jim, properly looked at him. And there were no shields up, no hiding place, and Bones felt like he could see for miles. Without thinking, he said, “Those eyes were designed to look at the stars”. And then he practically slammed his hand over his mouth because if anything had ever sounded like a cheesy line from one of Jim’s favourite cheesy films, that was it. Jim didn’t laugh, but those eyes softened a bit and he sat back. He’d pushed it far enough for one day.

Jim won. Of course he did. That was how the pattern of their lives had been set. And if Jim wanted him in the awfulness of space, then hell, Bones would go. Hating every minute of it, and complaining ferociously, but he would go. Because Jim asked. Stupid, intelligent men.

But the simple fact was that with Jim, Bones forgot almost everything that haunted him. He knew that his past mistakes were still there, always waiting to tap him on the shoulder if he let down his guard, but no longer _there_ at the front of his brain, constantly nagging at him. Jim’s light kept them at bay. And he prided himself on helping Jim, keeping him safe. They were mixed-up fuckers, but together, Bones knew that they could take on the world.

\--

“So I’m gonna do the test”. Jim pushed himself up, using Bones’ chest as a lever. “I want you with me. Will you do it?”

“Again? Jim, why put yourself through it again?” Bones put his hands behind his head. “The Kobayashi is designed to beat you, you must realise that. You got further than about 99% of any other candidate; why isn’t that enough?”

“No, it’s not enough, it can’t be”. Jim thumped the mattress by the side of Bones’ head. “There’s always a way to beat shit, always. I just have to find it”. He thumped the mattress again. “And I will”.

“If anybody can, you will”, Bones said, and he meant it. Jim’s planet-sized brain could work out the answers to most things (although give him a tricorder and he looked at it like it was some kind of sex toy), but the Maru - that was something different. There were stormy skies ahead…

__

And he failed it. He failed it better, as Bones said feebly, but he still failed. And for three nights straight Bones came back to rooms that had been turned upside down by an utter maniac. Said maniac sat in the middle of the wreckage like a spider at the centre of the web, and ripped Bones’ head clean off his shoulders when he dared to say something about the mess.

On the fourth night, the mess had gone, the spider had gone, and Jim apologised in a very - acceptable Kirkian fashion. Bones had gone to classes the next day sore and grinning like a fool.

__

So he took it again, because he was Jim Kirk.

He passed. He beat the Maru. Bones was a combination of astounded and horrified. He knew that Jim had - done something. It was just a question of what.

And then… oh God, then.

“You cheated”. Those words sank into Bones’ head. He watched Jim stiffen, and wanted nothing more than to stand up and go to him, defend him against those charges. But he couldn’t; Jim would punch his lights out if he dared to interfere. Jim was capable of taking care of himself, and if on the rare occasion it got too much for him, then his collapse would take place behind closed doors away from prying eyes. The last thing he would do in front of all these people was ask for help.

Spock was an asshole of the highest order and immediately became the target of Bones’ venom. How dare he bring George Kirk into this? This was about Jim, not George, and mentioning Jim’s dad didn’t strengthen any argument he was trying to make. _Pretty fucking illogical,_ he thought bitterly. He could see JIm losing ground after that, and the previously straight back and shoulders slumped as it began to hit home. 

The alert came through before Bones had a chance to speak to him and with all the confusion and mayhem that kicked off, there was no chance to get a conversation in. The best he could do was a brief hug as they made their way down to the shuttle bay to receive their assignments. He could feel Jim quivering in anger as he returned the hug, his arms tight around Bones, his head burrowing briefly into its favourite resting spot, depositing a light kiss to Bones’ throat. Then they pulled apart and stood facing front like the good cadets they were.

The shuttle bay was mayhem, and initially they both thought they had simply not heard Jim’s name mentioned in the long list of other cadets. But then…

“Suspended?” Jim muttered the word, but then just stopped, gazing at nothing, utterly defeated at that moment, as if it was the absolute last thing he could imagine, and had no escape plan hatched. Oh, he could come up with one, but he needed a while to think it over.

“I have to go,” Bones said, hating himself at that moment more than he would have thought possible. 

“Of course, be safe”. Jim shook his hand - _shook his fucking hand!_ \- and his face contorted into something that couldn’t even be described as a smile. It was just an upturn of the lips that went nowhere near his eyes. 

“I have to go”, he said again, but Jim had turned his back. “Jim, don’t do that. Don’t turn away from me”. He reached out and pulled Jim’s shoulder. “I don’t want to do this, you know I don’t. I agreed to follow you out there; I don’t want to go on my own. We’re better together, remember?”

“I’ll be here when you get back. You won’t be gone long, and then we can straighten all this out”. Jim stepped forward and hugged Bones hard, kissing his cheek and then his mouth. “I fucking love you, man. Don’t forget it”. It wasn’t the first time either of them had said that, but Bones thought it had never meant quite so much.

“I’ll be back before you know it”. Behind him, somebody called Bones’ name. “But I have to go”.

This time the smile was a little more genuine. “I’ll make pot roast.”

“Oh God, please don’t”. With a final smile, a final touch of the arm, Bones turned away to face the nightmare of space without his rock.

TBC


End file.
